


To the Heart and Soul

by leashy_bebes



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Consensual Humiliation, M/M, blindfold, multiple anonymous partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:10:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Posted on LJ <a href="http://leashy-bebes.livejournal.com/266754.html">here</a></p></blockquote>





	To the Heart and Soul

They're miles from anywhere, beyond the northern border, among peasants who have never laid eyes on the king of Camelot. They left all their fine cloaks and weapons behind, but Arthur can't help that a small part of him is worried. This is the kind of thing that could destroy a king with a single whisper. But Gwaine would never let it, Arthur thinks. Gwaine would probably strike down every man in the room before he let any of them use this against Arthur.

The floor is rough wood, hard under Arthur's knees, and he's already felt the tell-tale sting of a couple of splinters prickling at his hands. He's been fucked four, maybe five times so far. It's easy to lose track when the chatter in the room doesn't change pace, only broken up once in a while by someone's commentary on what a sweet arse Arthur has, how easily he takes it, how he must be gagging for it. Now though, now he's left alone, on his hands and knees in the middle of the room.

He can hear the crackle of a small fire, the voices of six or maybe seven men besides Gwaine, the soft glug as bottles are passed around and drained. And then he hears one of the younger men, one who'd taken his place behind Arthur earlier and called him a _fucking slut, look at you, look, dirty little bastard_ , trying to persuade another man to take his turn.

"I don't know, what do you think?"

The voice is bored, and Arthur should probably be a little offended because when he's on his hands and knees waiting to get fucked, the last thing anyone should sound is _bored_.

"He's a good fuck," Gwaine says from the other side of the room, sounding like he's been distracted from something more interesting. Behind the blindfold, Arthur rolls his eyes. "Always up for it," Gwaine elaborates.

Arthur swallows and grits his teeth, waiting.

"You're telling me," another voice says. "If he was a girl he'd be dripping."

There's a few throaty chuckles and the bored voice muses, "Pretty enough for a girl."

Footsteps then, and Gwaine's voice again, a lot closer, fingers brushing over Arthur's cheek.

"Well, he is at that. He's my pretty little princess, aren't you?" he asks Arthur, thumb tracing his lower lip.

Arthur's face flares, because these others, they are just a means to an end. This is about Gwaine, and the way Arthur's stomach squirms when he insults Arthur in that casual, off-hand tone, or even things that aren't insults but still feel like it. Things that seem to strike right at the heart of Arthur, obliterating his pride and making him into the needful creature Gwaine accuses him of being.

A short, thick cock presses inside him without warning and Arthur drops his head, only for Gwaine's fingers on his chin to lift it again. Arthur's already decided he and Gwaine will be staying in this god-forsaken shack tonight – there is no way he's getting on a horse – so he doesn't both trying to make it easy on himself, just takes the brief, rough fucking the man seems minded to dole out.

Really, it's nothing. The hard length battering into him, the hands tightening into claws on his hips, they all fade away because Gwaine is right there, whispering in his ear, making him shudder right down to his bones. _Look at you. Fucking desperate. If they knew. If they only knew, my lord. These brutes here, or the ones at home, if they could see you like this, on your knees because I put you there. On your knees like this is your birthright instead of a pretty crown. Take whatever I tell you to, won't you?  
_  
If anyone else said that, Arthur would run them through. If _Gwaine_ said that elsewhere, Arthur would be tempted to do the same. But this, these words, Gwaine's tone, the disregard of the others in the room, Arthur feels like they strip him down to his bare bones, to the heart and soul of him, to an animal that wants and needs so selfishly, always more-more-more.

***

After the others leave, Gwaine cleans Arthur up and discards the strip of cloth they'd knotted into a blindfold. Arthur finds it hard to talk, to think, even to rise from his knees. He swallows harshly and watches as Gwaine paces back over to him.

Gwaine has that infuriating smile on his face as he looks down at Arthur. He slides his fingers under Arthur's jaw again, brushes his thumb over the lower lip Arthur has bitten ragged.

"Good job, princess."

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on LJ [here](http://leashy-bebes.livejournal.com/266754.html)


End file.
